Herren saw his dreams of being an NBA star wash out from under him as he slid further into the grips of alcohol, cocaine, Oxycontin, and eventually, heroin.

A high school star, Herren was courted by colleges around the nation. He was drafted to the Denver Nuggets and eventually played for the Boston Celtics. But nothing — not even the NBA — was more important to Herren than getting his next fix.

He hit bottom when he was found in Fall River, near death over the wheel of his car, a bag of heroin on the passenger seat.

Before getting sober in 2008, he had a $500-a-day drug habit. He also had a pregnant wife, Heather, who stuck by him through everything, and two little children.

"We couldn't pay the bills," Herren writes. "All the money was gone. The heat was turned off. We began boiling water on the stove for the kids to have hot water for baths. The kids are wrapping themselves in blankets and Heather's not speaking to me, and I know I have to do something, but what am I doing to do, because if I don't somehow get to Fall River the next day (to pick up heroin) I'm going to be in a fetal position, so sick I won't be able to move.

"This is what it had come down to. All the basketball fame and TV games. All the charter flights in the NBA and five-star hotels. All the money that came with that.

"(Heather) would go to work in the morning and (7-year-old daughter) Sammy and I would go to the liquor store to get vodka before I put her on the bus and drove to Fall River to chase down heroin."

This is the tip of the iceberg. The hell that Herren goes through is jaw-dropping:

"I was in a kitchen one morning and a woman was prostituting herself in the next room with the door open and her little kid could see it. I was with people who were sharing needles full of blood. I was in houses with no furniture, no TV, no anything, just mattresses on the floor, and little kids sitting on them.

"Hell couldn't be any worse."

I spoke with Herren recently:

Lauren: Your story is incredible. What made you finally sit down and write it?

Chris: Reynolds is as close to me as any family member. We both had talked about it very briefly when I first got sober (in 2008). As time kept moving, and sobriety became more prevalent in my life, I wanted to send the message of hope and faith and maybe inspire someone I could stop from going down this road.

So we started this book nine months ago. We sat down, met a couple hours a day, talked in the coffee house, kind of banged though it.

Lauren: You talk about the pressure to play basketball when you were a kid. You didn't have toys; you had a basketball. You talk a lot about how the sport was a weight, a job. Was it ever any fun?

Chris: It was fun in the driveway, fun in the park. For me, once they started keeping score, I felt intense pressure and the fear of failure. That started at a young age. That's when the fun was taken away.

I feel bad for any kid that has to grow up like that. Most kids have sports, art, music as a stress relief. But that wasn't the case for me, so I looked for another outlet — and that was drugs.

Lauren: You say your relationship with Durfee basketball coach Skip Karam was like oil and water when you were a high school star.

Chris: Back then, with the pressures of colleges and recruiting and everything going on, I acted out in certain ways toward him. He was the authority figure in my life, and at that time, I wasn't feeling authority figures. Now, he's like a grandfather to me. I realize the value of everything he did for me.

Lauren: You say the decision to pick a college was paralyzing for you. You felt a lot of pressure to go to Kentucky. You ended up at BC, where your brother Mike played. If you could do it all over again, where would you go?

Chris: I would go to prep school for a year. I would get away through a structure that was college-like, but a more structured environment. I don't put the blame on anybody. The pressures were also internal.

Lauren: You have some great anecdotes about being on the Celtics. But playing in the NBA in general was frustrating for you.

Chris: The Celtics and Nuggets went by so fast, and I was at one the lowest points of my life when I was with the Celtics. People say, 'How could that be the lowest? You hadn't reached heroin yet.'

But (my time in the NBA) was when I was in the grips of opiates, Oxycontin — I couldn't function without it. My experience with the Celtics was wasted. I didn't cherish any of those moments.

Lauren: It seemed like some of the worst points were when you played overseas. You had unreal stories about things that happened in Turkey, China. Do you think the isolation over there made the drug problem worse?

Chris: Every moment was low. For years. Whether it was overseas or at my home. Addiction turns you into a very lonely person. You live in a very dark world. I was alone no matter what country, what house — wherever I was, I was alone. The only thing was overseas, it took me longer to adjust to the streets and find drugs.

Lauren: What was your lowest point?

Chris: I've had a bunch. I've had so many bottoms. So many times, I didn't think I could get lower. But I guess my lowest point was when I went back to Daytop (Rehab Center on Cape Cod) and a (counselor) told me to get away from my kids and cut ties from my family because I was bringing them down. That was low.

But it was also spiritual, because that night I lay in bed thinking "Maybe that is the best plan." I contemplated that, staring at the ceiling. Then I thought, 'No way. I'm their father. I'm my wife's husband. It's time to surrender.' So my lowest point turned into one of my best points.

Lauren: This seems to me like the type of book that could be made into a movie.

Chris: Yeah, there are plenty of people talking about making a movie. Do I put any value into it? Not yet. I'm dealing with book stuff now. We'll see.

Lauren: What is your life like now?

Chris: Life's the best. From where I come from, there are no bad days. Your worst day sober is better than the best day under the influence of any substance.

Lauren: Where are you working now?

Chris: My company HoopDreams works out of three different gyms. I work with a wide range of kids, from kids getting ready for the NBA draft, down to middle school. It's like an academy.

Lauren: What do you want readers to get out of this book?

Chris: When I did this book, there were things I put in this book that I was ashamed and embarrassed of. I thought, 'Do I keep this in? Do I take it out?' But I didn't take anything out. There's a healing process that takes place when you admit your biggest mistakes in life. Maybe someone will say, 'Hey, I've lived that life. I've done that, and it's killing me.' I want them to know they can get through it if they want to.

Lauren Daley is a freelance writer and columnist for The Fall River Spirit. Contact her at ldaley33@gmail.com. This story originally appeared in The Standard-Times.

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